


Whittling Away

by TheDyingRedRose



Category: jacksepticeye
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Batim references, Drabble, Drinking, Egos, Excessive Drinking, Jacksepticeye egos, Living Toys, Loneliness, Magic, Magic AU, Magic!Jack, Other, Red writes, Sean McLoughlin - Freeform, Short work, Sleep Deprivation, Toy maker, alive toys, hard work, jacksepticeye - Freeform, magic toys, magic!flynn, shawn flynn - Freeform, short fic, talking toys, toy maker au, toymaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 23:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12398205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDyingRedRose/pseuds/TheDyingRedRose
Summary: Red~ Small drabble based on the newest septic ego, Shawn Flynn.





	Whittling Away

The floors of the cabin creaked, settling from the day. The windows were closed, but you could still hear the small sound of wind whistling through the trees. The furniture inside was comfy and lived in, all darker colors. Shelves lined the top of the walls, filled with toys and creations of all kinds. The toys whispered, talking about a vary of things. In the corner by a window, sat a large work desk. The desk was filled with trinkets, pieces and paints of all sorts, a few bottles of whiskey sitting to the side.

  
At that desk sat a man with tired and bloodshot eyes, whose smell resembled wood smoke and alcohol. He sat with a knife and a wood block, carving and whittling away. His hair was dark, the slightest green shown through the black. His glasses set low on his nose, to busy with his work to fix them. His focus was on nothing other than what was in front of him.

  
He spent most of his nights like this. Working on his love, his passion, under his eyelids felt like led, and his brain ached for rest. His days at the toy factory weren't kind to him, but he remained diligent. He had thought of quitting before. He didn't though. He stayed on, being bossed by a man with little sense left, at that inky factory.

  
He reached over, grabbing a bottle and taking a long swig of the liquid, feeling it burn all the way down his throat. He liked to say that he worked better when the room spun. A few of the toys made sounds of disagreements, the rest used to such things. He continued his work.

  
Life was fine. Living alone was preferred. If the factory were to close down he had plenty of options. The ladies in the town wouldn't recognize his passion. He had few desires, other than creating. The need to create could get overwhelming at times. The pure thrill of inspiration was more of a buzz than anything else. At times it got so strong he had to dull it. That's why whiskey was his second in command, his creations third.

  
Besides, no one else was around to tell him otherwise.

  
When he felt the carving was adequate he sat back, smirking at his work. "That'd do for tonight."

  
The toys murmured their agreements, before going silent. With that he turned off the light, the toys on the shelves closing their eyes, and the new creation staying put. The cabin creaked as he went down the hall, and shut his bedroom door, retiring for the night.


End file.
